


Can't Hold Us

by BlueLunes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Future!Stiles, M/M, Pack Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-17
Updated: 2012-10-17
Packaged: 2017-11-16 12:10:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/539268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueLunes/pseuds/BlueLunes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a crack of light and the air is on fire with electricity. In the middle of a burnt circle a man stands, the silver metal of his gun glinting in the moonlight.<br/>"Calm down, sourwolf."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Hold Us

**Author's Note:**

> Based off this post on tumblr: http://feelseverywhere.tumblr.com/post/31319327386/derekwhostillscaresme-snowdarkred
> 
> I wasn't really satisfied how I wrote the Future!Stiles so I might make this one-shot part of a collection of short fics about Future!Stiles.

There's a sharp crack, a flash of light. Derek spins around, his lips drawn back in a snarl, his hair/fur raising with fearanger and the electric bite that sets the air around them on fire. Beside him Erika, Boyd, Jackson and Isaac have all shifted, straining to leap forward. Scott is behind Isaac, taking to his shift slower, his attention torn between the humans and -

A figure stands up in the burnt ground in the centre of the clearing where Derek likes to hold his training sessions with his pack. Derek growls in warning, feeling his bones crunch and muscles pop as he starts to let the shift take hold of him.

  
"Whoa, easy there," the figure, dressed in a long leather jacket with a dark hooded sweatshirt under it, says holding his hands up. The moonlight catches on the silver of the gun and the wolves all snarl, forming a bristling wall in front of the humans. The figure chuckles, his head still tilted toward the ground.

  
Derek's wolf whines confused; the sent that rolls off the man is strange, twisted with the sharp bite of metal and blood, but it seems familiar. The wolf is torn, he wants to turn and look at Stiles but he can't look away.

  
"Look, I'm going to put my hands down ok? I'm going to put my hands down and put my gun away, ok? So you can ease up there, big guy."

  
Derek snarls, taking a small half-step forward when the man starts to lower his hands. He freezes. Derek takes another sniff, frowning when he doesn't smell anything other than the metal, blood and that achingly familiar scent. The man's heartbeat is erratic, much like-

  
"Calm down, sourwolf, I'm not going to do anything." The man tips his head back, buzzed hair moving back to show a pale face spotted with moles and honey-brown eyes. A scar across the man's cheek stretches when he grins, showing far too many teeth. It's a wolfish smile. Predator.

  
Derek feels the pack tense, hears Allison gasp and Stiles'heartbeat ratchet up another notch. A rumble builds in Derek's chest as he narrows his eyes at this man.

"Real cute, Derek, real cute," the other Stiles says, his lips closing over his white teeth, mouth twisting into a smirk. "Let's put the fangs and claws away and I'll put my gun away. Yeah?"

  
The honey-brown eyes are cold as he lowers his hands, there isn't any of the laughter in them as he watches Derek. Stiles steps forward, brushing shoulders with Derek, lending some comfort to the confused wolf who doesn't understand the scent of two mates.

  
"Damn, I almost forgot about my obsession with plaid," the other Stiles says, casting an eye over Stiles, his smirk still in place. "I gotta admit, the red will never get old."

  
This Stiles smells of blood and metal, this Stiles grins like a wolf but smells like a human. This Stiles looks at Derek and Derek sees a vast emptiness.

  
"What happened?" he asks, voice gruff being forced between fanged teeth.

  
The man laughs, cold and sends disquiet through the Pack. "What happened? What happened, Derek?" he laughs again, bending over clutching his knees. The gun still glints in the moonlight. "What happened," he finally gets out, looking up from where he's hunched over, "is I killed you. I fucking put a bullet in your head. That's what happened."

  
Erika snarls and lunges forward, would have charged at the Not Stiles if Boyd hadn't wrapped his arms around her waist. They are all snarling, but Derek's glare keeps them in place.

  
"There's a war coming, Derek. It's going to be bigger than a little scuffle with an Alpha Pack or your cute little games with the hunters. There is a war coming and you are going to have to choose."

  
"Did you choose?" Stiles asks quietly, his gaze fixed on his other self. The Not Stiles laughs again, this time its bitter, sounds like shattering glass.

  
"Hell yes. I chose. You know what I chose, don't you?" The Not Stiles becomes somber, his gaze focused on Stiles. Beside Derek, Stiles' body becomes rigid. He glares at his older self and purposely straightens, pressing himself into Derek as he lifts his head.

  
The smile on the other Stiles' face is the most human Derek has seen yet on this man's face. "Of course," he says. "It's always Derek isn't it?"


End file.
